Part 11 - The Jackpot

The trip to Cape Town for Two Oceans was another one of those epic types really, with funny stories and stupidity thick in the air. In the weeks leading up to the race we had determined that College needed a new pair of runners. He duly went out and purchased them. At around the 21km mark of the race College was complaining of significant pain in a knee. Now, you must know that College is not the type to complain about discomfort or pain easily, if he says it hurts it probably does (a lot). Somehow he made it through the race, despite the knee that felt like it was going to ‘give in’ most of the time. As it turns out, when College had gone to get his new runners he neglected to take his old ones with him and did not really know the exact type they were. He ended up buying a new pair of runners which looked very much like his old pair, but unfortunately were not stability shoes, but neutral ones! College had done his first ultra marathon in a pair of neutral running shoes (on minimal training)! Apparently College discovered this while chatting to a physiotherapist (about the coming Comrades), who must have been quite bewildered at the amateurish behaviour on show!

After Two Oceans I was reasonably confident that Comrades was a possibility. Unfortunately soon after getting back from Cape Town my brother decided to leave M&A and therefore leave me in the lurch with no manager, meaning I had to be at the shop 7AM to 8PM every day. So that put paid to that. Closer to Comrades my good friend Kevin heard that I was going to have to ‘can’ Comrades because of the shop and he offered to look after the shop so that I could go. I was shocked by the offer! Kev has a wife, family and very time consuming job, yet he was willing to do this for me. I was over the moon, and started typing up some notes to help him while I was away. Sadly, the joy was short-lived. I promptly proceeded to get injured and was unable to run even 5km without significant consequences in pain and mobility. I ended up working like that at the restaurant for the better part of three months. During that time I really took a lot of strain. I was unable to do anything really besides work. College went down to Comrades and ran decently for his 10h51 finish. He had not started running that long before January really so it was impressive.

I on the other hand was massively disappointed to not be able to go down to the race, even to just support. Thankfully he had his whole family there and it was a great weekend.

During my time alone at the shop [Puppy class girl] was very supportive and really helped me get through it. Our relationship seemed to get on well. Unfortunately during that time she took a bad tumble off her horse and was badly concussed. She took a lot of strain and really struggled with her recovery. From my side, I struggled to deal with her recovery. She is a very sensitive person and it took much longer than I thought it would for her to get back to normal. At the time it seemed to me that (and I might be wrong) she simply took the advice that concussions can take up to 6 months to clear up –and went with that as a guide and blocked off the possibility that she might recover faster. I might have been (am being?) a bit harsh, but it really got to me, I wanted her to get on with it. Our relationship took strain, although I thought we were still quite solid overall.

Time went on and eventually I found a manager, [new manager]. Pretty good guy -not huge on personality but good on reliability. He could start immediately and I was seriously desperate by this time! I took a few days to get him up to speed with how things ran and then worked out some shifts we could work. I made it so that we mostly worked half days, with me on from open until 13h00 and him from 13h00 until close. I gave him Saturday as his off day and I took Sunday and Monday –although Monday I was running around getting stuff for the shop anyway. This freed up a lot of time for training which was now going full steam towards my second New York Marathon (sweeeeet!)

Training progressed better that last time and I was hoping –all being well- to run under 4 hours and in so doing take an hour off last years time. It would be tough, but I was confident I could do it. Towards the end of October [Puppy class girl] went to St Francis for her annual family holiday -her being away for so long (until mid Jan!) put a lot of strain on me and I started to struggle to maintain my feelings with her being away for so long. Unfortunately we eventually ended up breaking up over the phone, which was a very shit. 

The marathon didn’t go exactly as planned. In the week before the race my stomach was playing up badly for some reason and I found myself in the WC (much) more often than usual. I was a bit upset about that as I was going to aim for that sub-4, but I accepted it (all I could do, really) and prepared as best I could.

Right –as will become clear now, this was all written some time ago. Things have changed somewhat re this next part. Read on..

One completely rad thing that happened on the New York trip was that I got to go for a run with Lance Armstrong. He had tweeted that he was in the City for something and that he was going for a run, starting at Nike Town on 5^th Avenue at 9h30 the Sunday before the marathon. I arrived there (together with about another 1000 or so people) and the run started with a massive frenzy of bodies. The pace was fairly hectic (for me at the time!), I estimate close to 4 minutes per kilometer. Lance ran with a few minders in close proximity to himself so as not to be mobbed. As the run went on the group got smaller and smaller, the pace was tough! I struggled to stay with and used up much energy doing so. I didn’t exactly chat to the Boss, but I was running within a few meters of him. As a massive LA fan, this was a small dream come true. The run ended in Central Park and Lance said a quick few words of thanks, jumped into a yellow cab and was gone. Damn, I was now wasted! The run was only 5 km or so, but I hoped that I had not destroyed myself for the big day tomorrow!

So there it is. Lance was my ultimate, the last man standing, the BEST. That is no longer the case (was never), and I am appalled and disgusted by his attitude and actions (for a great quick read on how I feel go here: http://www.supersport.com/cycling/blogs/mike-haysman/Armstrong_deserves_nothing)

Disappointing! –Lets move on..

My guides this time round were two teachers from Marvin Elementary School, Steve Weeks and Bob Cornell –really good guys. Both had done a bit of running before in their lives. Steve (in his 50s) had beaten cancer and was big into Ironman triathlon. He’d been to Kona a few times (Ironman World Championships in Hawaii) and was very knowledgeable. Bob (early 30s maybe?) had done a few marathons but wasn’t as fit. We chatted most of the way and it was good. I had to stop to throw up around the 25km mark, but besides that it was fine. We weren’t running very fast, but I didn’t mind too much. Towards the end of the race Steve developed an injury and sent Bob and I on our way with instructions on how to pace ourselves to the best possible finish. Eventually I was running by myself, finishing strong. I crossed the line in much pain after 4h34m of running. Damn, that whole in-out-in thing in Central Park at the end ALWAYS gets me! Once again, because I was an Achilles runner it was dead easy to get out of the finishing area and into the Achilles tent. Eventually I found Steve (Bob was nowhere to be found) and we walked back into the city towards our hotels instead of using public transport. We said our goodbyes and thank yous and parted ways. I went back to the hotel and slept. I was happy with how the run had gone, slow time, but just so incredible to be there, and also to meet people like Bob and Steve.

This is where the story ends… after this my life becomes somewhat normal –and so I stopped writing..

Nevertheless, here is a brief run down, in point form (I have always been lazy!) of the next few years:

•  I met a wonderful girl called Kimmi –we have a child of 3 months old and are so happy
• I went back to New York and ran an all-time PB 3h44 (I have since run faster again)
• I work in an industry that I am passionate about, and (generally) look forward to kicking ass and taking names every day at work
•  My brother and I are mates again
•  I still struggle with aspects of rehabilitation, though I can do all the things I want to do
• Life is long, you learn lessons along the way… I look back on times when I was ABSOLUTELY CONVINCED that I was right when I now realize I was wrong
•  There are always challenges in life, but I honestly feel like I have hit the jackpot :-) :-) :-) :-)

Part 10 - Cycling again and the Two Oceans Ultra

Meeting up with [puppy class girl] again was good, if a little awkward as we both were a little unsure of where we were with each other. Anyway, we continued to spend time together and eventually things seemed to be as they were before. I was really happy that I had found a softer side to her and that she was not so much a ‘logical, rational machine’ as I thought she was.

Earlier in the year I had entered the 94.7 Cycle Race (95 or so kilometers through Johannesburg). The race was two weeks after NYC to the day. I had not cycled since before my stroke, so it probably wasn’t the wisest, but I was determined to do it (in hindsight, WTF was I thinking!?). The main problem was that I could still not unclip my left foot from my pedal (to this day I still can’t), so would have to be really careful about planning stops at the correct and convenient times. Since starting with cycling about 2 years or so before my stroke I found that I really enjoyed it and was a pretty decent cyclist for the most part. I was going to ride the race at my leisure and take it easy, there was no real point in trying to go fast as my body was still recovering from the marathon and I had zero cycling mileage in my legs. I hooked up with Grant, a friend of mine who is a good guy and a good cyclist. He was trying to encourage some of his staff to get into the whole fitness thing and was going to ride the race with them, helping them along and through. I decided I would do the same. I was not going to be concerned with times or heart-rates or any of that stuff. I rode with them at a snails pace for what I estimate was 60 or so kilometers before I just could not anymore and had to ‘put the hammer down’ and try to get this race done. They were going to be out there a long time, and I didn’t want to be out there too. I was pretty strong, I hammered it and basically time-trialed to within 10km of the finish before I had a spectacular blow-up and started searching frantically for aid-stations. In my kindness and ‘wisdom’ I had given all my energy gels to others I thought needed them more! I had the usual things happening to me: shaky legs, blurred vision, dodgy co-ordination (and it was bad enough as it was!). Thank goodness I found an aid station. I stuffed my face with tons of Coke and water for 5 minutes before hopping on and finishing the race. It was a really nice experience, very different from any cycle race I had done before… I never even wore a watch, I was amazed that I did that –its something I would never dream of doing before.  It was great riding a bicycle again and it reminded me that I should get back into it ASAP.

Wow, OK so I’ve just read through all that I have written and not all of it makes sense –sorry! As time went on after my ‘thing’ I realized more and more that my mind was not the same as it used to be. In the past I was able to write quite well –one or two people even mentioned the word ‘talented’ in the same breath as my writing. Post stroke I found it very difficult to write as fluently as I did before. According to the doctors the damage to my brain resulted in me struggling with planning and short-term memory. Now, anyone who has ever had to write anything over 1000 words will know that a reasonable amount of planning is required. While my planning skills and short-term memory have gotten better over time through the use of certain mechanisms, I don’t think I’ll get back to where I was before. I’ve learned to deal with that and I have moved on psychologically.

So after the 94.7 life kind of carried on as it does. My relationship with [puppy class girl] developed into something quite special and I enjoyed spending time with her. That December I joined her and the family in St Francis for a few weeks over the Christmas and new-year period. We spent a lot of time on the beach (she loves the beach) and we ate good food (her family always cooked up a storm). I returned home in early January to get going with M&A. At this point I was still very hopeful of fulfilling a little dream I had to do Ironman again in April, but as time went on I realized that it wasn’t going to happen (for a LONG time -I'm still trying!). In the mean-time ‘College’ (Jon, best friend from school) and I had been doing quite a bit of running together and he convinced me that running the Comrades Marathon (a brutal 89km ultra run between Pietermaritzburg and Durban in South Africa) was a good idea. Although I wasn’t in good shape in terms of cycling or swimming, my running was pretty decent. And, as it turned out, my 4:57 at the New York marathon was two minutes and fifty-nine seconds more than I needed to qualify for Comrades. So, we embarked on training. College and I tend to be rather casual about things that we should be more serious about, so the training wasn’t always what one might deem intelligent or prudent. Nevertheless, we trained with the end goal of completing the Comrades Marathon. College is a geologist by trade, and not a stupid man, if you know what I mean. College, or Jon Stacey as most know him, arrived at St John’s College, Johannesburg at the same time as me, in the 3^rd year of high school. Over the years we developed a strong bond of friendship, cemented by the fact that we both ended up being prefects in the boarding school, and did our best to terrorise/educate/teach the 1^st years ‘what it was all about’. We had a hell of a lot of fun. After school we went our separate ways, and eventually College ended up studying at Cardiff in Wales and I (predictably) ended up at the University of Johannesburg, with a later stint in London. We kept in touch through the years and often at a moments notice would embark on epic trips up mountains and down rivers in Zambia and surrounds or end up meeting in Bangkok for a three-week exploration of Thailand. We dubbed these meetings ‘Dangerous Liaisons’ and kept record of them as best we could (we still do).

Anyway, we continued our training, as best as our schedules would allow us (College was based in Johannesburg, but was often out of the country or city for work). As the big day drew closer things looked pretty hopeful. We were not getting nearly the amount of training in recommended by ‘experts’ but we were confident of pulling it off. During all this time I continued my sessions with [Bio] (I was hopeful that a strong core might ‘save’ me, again).

College ended up running a good qualifier at the Pick ‘n’ Pay Marathon, it was quite an impressive effort considering all the shit that was going down at the time, including an obligatory family holiday to the Otter Trail. In preparation for Comrades it is advisable to do at least one ‘ultra’ marathon; this generally means a run of over 42.2km. We had decided that we would use the Two Oceans 56km ultra as this run. Leading up to the race things were not ideal, I remember being very apprehensive about it as I (for some reason) had not got enough training in. Nevertheless, we ended up doing the Two Oceans in a slow time. We weren’t too worried as our big goal was Comrades.

Part 9-Success in New York

The race was similar in crowd attendance on the sides of the road to the London marathon, but Americans are of course so much more vocal and noisy than the typical reserved Brit spectator. It was also election time, with mostly pro-Obama banners lining the streets.

I would say that on (almost) every corner there was a band of some kind playing, with a resident crowd having a massive party egging on the runners. The atmosphere was just incredible. The guides ran in formation around me warning me of dangers ahead like holes, slippery surfaces, or unexpected objects. In addition, they constantly inquired as to how I was feeling, and always offered me drinks and whatever else was available at the many aid stations. They were incredibly energetic and were whooping and shouting and jumping around the whole 42.2 km. Jeremy was an American who owned a franchise running store called Fleet Feet in Cincinnati was a really good guy, very genuine and at the same time very enthusiastic and knowledgeable about running (I think he said he had done Comrades a few times with his wife or something). Peter was a South African diplomat who had been living in the states for a few years with his family, and was also a genuinely good guy and a bloody strong runner –he had just finished a 55 MILER the weekend before and was going to run a 100km race two weeks hence. The other guy was a Chinese-American guy who was ill and pulled out at halfway. Peter was the guy who would keep us going at the required pace with his Garmin Forerunner GPS watch (just like mine back home). He would constantly monitor our pace and say if we were going too fast or too slow to break 5 hours. Along the way we passed some of the guys from our group and stopped for a photo, at the time I wasn’t sure we really could afford the time, but I didn’t really mind that much, I had to stop to say hi to Dennis (the old man I was sharing a bed with and also the head of Achilles SA) who was acting as a guide to Keki and Shiny Things. They took nine hours to finish the race, but they finished.

I ran surprisingly well, considering my (lack of) training. I was feeling fine for most of the way up until around 30km or so (usual story for a marathon I guess). At that point I wanted to pick it up a little but my guides had other ideas and we stuck to our plan for a sub-5 finish. It turned out to be for the best, as I started fading badly anyway. The funny thing was that the only thing that really hurt were my joints. My legs felt (relatively) fine. I realized that while the Bio sessions did excellently to strengthen my legs and core for the run, there could be no substitute for running to get your joints used to the pounding. The value of my hours spent in Bio sessions were starting to show now, deep into the marathon.

My body was holding together fine, but the joints were just not used to the duration of work required of them. As a result I was hobbling quite badly (I fitted in well with the other runners!). As we approached the finish line (about 500 metres from it) we stopped for another photo with Peter’s family who had been trying to see us the whole time on the road by driving to different points in the race.

After that we started moving those last metres towards the finish. Crossing the line I was relieved that it was over and happy that we at least ran under 5 hours (4:57). Peter and the Garmin had paced us to perfection. The finish was great because as we were Achilles runners we got special treatment, and were able to get out of the finishing area in next to no time. I went straight back to the hotel and slept.

I reflected on the fact that had it not been for all the stops along the way, we might have run 15 or even 20 minutes faster; Its funny, in the past this would have bothered me massively, this time it was not even an issue for me. I was just so happy to be there and to be part of something great. This was certainly a big departure from how I used to be (really focused on the performance aspect, maybe sometimes forgetting about the fun factor).

The next few days in NYC were spent seeing some of the classic sights which we did not see before, going to the top of the Empire State Building was obviously a highlight –an amazing view of the City and surrounds from up there.

The day after the run I was in Macy’s doing some last minute bargain hunting when [Girfriend] called. It was actually so nice to chat to her (it usually is, we always seem to get on OK). She was very proud of what I had done and let it be known which was very nice. It was difficult to talk to her when I was in such a happy and content state of mind; I still had (and always will have) very strong feelings for her. Its funny how general happiness and a feeling of contentment can alter the decisions you make and the way you act towards others. There was a part of me that really just wanted to forget about all the crap and try to re-connect with [Girfriend]. I tried to stay in control and managed (I think) to not be a complete insensitive bastard, while maintaining some sense of decorum.

Before I left for NYC I had written [Puppy class girl] a letter basically asking how she felt about ‘us’. We had been broken up for about a month and I was missing her and wondering if I had been too hasty in breaking it off. My running routes take me past her house and in that month that we were apart I saw her once or twice on the road (she walked a lot at the time) and we would chat briefly. Shortly before NYC we had had dinner at Primi Piatti in Sanridge (it is a hole, FYI) and it was quite enjoyable, we chatted well and had a ‘friendly’ dinner without any long-winded discussions of relationships and ‘us’. The simple reality was that the two of us connected on numerous levels. Intellectually we both enjoyed a good ‘devil’s advocate’–type discussion, personality-wise we both are logical and practical to a large extent, and intimately we connected in an intense and familiar way (despite not knowing each other for that long).

In my letter I had mentioned these things and before I left she had sent me an SMS basically saying that she was willing to give it another go. I received the message upon arrival in NYC. I was quite excited, but also nervous –this was not the usual thing for [Puppy class girl]- and I hoped it was not a mistake. Throughout my time in NYC she and I kept in contact via SMS, and even chatted briefly on the phone. I was quite excited (and again, nervous) to get back and see her and chat to her to see where ‘we’ were.

Arriving back in Johannesburg was (as usual), great. I love home and being home with my family and familiar surroundings. John had been missing me and I him (more I think!). I always seem to miss my family life immensely, particularly my Mom and sister Kayleigh. Seeing them again is always SUCH an amazing feeling. I managed to get gifts for most, but not all at home, I really enjoy getting people gifts for some reason. 

Part 8 -The New York City Marathon

So the next big step for me was to get the M&A transfer loose-ends tied up. Thank God I have a mother like I do. My Mom is just the most incredible and amazing individual on this earth –my everything. The vast majority of the ‘wrapping up’ was instrumented by Mom, and soon M&A was becoming more and more part of our lives. In the time I spent with Nick, I learned most of the skills I would need; I could get by in the kitchen, and the bar was no problem (keeping my skills sharp however would become difficult later on as the staff did more and more). Getting to know customers was a process, and that never ended.

During all this I had made the massive decision to leave [puppy class girl] in order to see how things with [Girlfriend] were (SHE had been hounding ME now, WTF?). It was a seriously big decision and breaking up with [puppy class girl] was really one of the hardest things I have done. Ironically, breaking up with her made me see a part of her that I was desperate for –the soft, sensitive part which she hides so well. There were tears (which I was sure I would NEVER see from her) and much hugging and confusion. The thing is that everything was going well, and it was the last thing that she expected. Of course, in my mind I had all kinds of rationalizations to justify the break-up, but the bottom line was that I was wondering too much about [Girlfriend] and I and wanted to see where we were. [puppy class girl] was very confused and really unhappy, and to tell the truth, so was I. Driving from her house tears came from my eyes, I was crying. This shocked me –I hardly ever get sad enough to cry. [Girlfriend] and I seemed to slip right back into where we were and for a while it seemed really good. As time went on however, I started realising that perhaps this was not the right thing and I felt as though we had lost our connection through all the crap that had happened. It was really difficult to sit down with her again to tell her that I wasn’t feeling our connection anymore. She was obviously extremely sad, and so was I, things were not nice at the moment. Things were really messed up and I wasn’t sure how they would fix themselves up, or if they would. The loss of two wonderful women did, however, leave space for M&A and training. 

So [Bio] and I were firmly focused on New York. It came to pass that I had been included in the Achilles South Africa Team to go to New York for the marathon in November (2008 now). The New York City marathon is always held on the first Sunday in November. I was seriously happy to be going and told anyone who would listen about it. I was also able to pay for the trip myself, which was really something new for me. Training for the run went well until I managed to injure my Achilles tendon. [Bio] said that it was just inflammation, and that there would not be any permanent damage if I kept running. So I kept running. Unfortunately the Achilles was painful in the extreme, and it prevented me running for two months leading up to the marathon. Although I could not run, [Bio] and I continued to do core and leg-strength work. [Bio] seemed positive that I would be ‘fine’. Whereas in the beginning I was looking to run a fairly good time, after the injury I changed my expectations to try to finish under 5 hours, which is really a slow time, but OK for a guy trying to make a comeback from paralysis.

During New York I hung out a lot with Braam and Pieter, the identical twin boys of Braam Mouton (Snr), the organizer of the trip and all round nice guy. The two boys were good fun and not always your typical 16 year-old boys. We chatted a lot and had a good few laughs doing the usual horsing around that boys can do. Good boys those, raised right and with a good sporting (and other) future ahead of them. Eventually I was able to tell them apart, but it was tricky.

New York (and the NYC Marathon itself) was an amazing experience. I met some really great people, and again was humbled by those less fortunate than me. The Achilles group consisted of some very unfortunate guys. There was Keki who was apparently a promising computer programmer before a car accident caused him severe brain damage. He was seriously weak on his left side and did not have proper and full use of his left arm or leg. He was able to walk only in a sporadic, uncoordinated fashion. Although this was the case, he had apparently made massive leaps and bounds in his recovery and rehabilitation. Umzamu was a young guy, I’d say 18 or so, who was completely blind. He was a tiny bloke who was led around by the others (mostly Keki), and warned of holes in his path or steps. Gerrit was a (he claimed) radio DJ from George with only one leg –I verified though that he did in fact only have one leg. He was an exceptionally miserable bastard. Despite the fact that he wasn’t paying a cent for the trip (Achilles SA took his word that he would pay them back, he did not), he complained endlessly about everything and often said that he would prefer not to be there. He was determined that having fun was not as important as doing a PB in the race (he would use a racing wheelchair). Gerrit would consistently disappear at crucial ‘paying points’, like towards the end of dinner or just before we were due to pay the fee for the Liberty Island trip. You know the type. The thing that really got to me was that he would ‘borrow’ money from Keki (a very soft, genial, unsuspecting bloke) and not return it, and Keki was not exactly rolling in it if you know what I mean. Gerrit, much to my delight, failed to do very well in the race and was very disappointed. I know its bad, but I was kind of happy that the guy didn’t do well –he didn’t deserve to.

I cannot remember the name of the other guy. He REALLY liked shiny things and on the last day when they left for the airport he almost ran off with my very shiny (and expensive) Tag watch. Little thief! Anyway, being with a group like this was really odd for me, obviously. To a casual observer I was completely normal, with no obvious handicaps, my limp while walking was pretty much imperceptible (running was still shit though).

Running the race under the Achilles banner is truly something special. The Achilles track club was founded in New York and has over the years had much publicity. Every Achilles runner runs with a ‘guide’. For guys like Keki and Umzamu, a guide was completely needed as they would need assistance to get through the (long) day. To be a guide for an Achilles athlete is a great honour in the US, so there is no shortage of offers. Ironically I (who least needed a guide), had three of them! We took a bus to the start of the race from Manhattan and lined up at the start waiting for our group (consisting of thousands) to be given the all clear to start. I was actually quite emotional about the whole thing and told the guides (Peter, Jeremy, some other guy) so. Not so long ago I was lying in a hospital bed unable to wipe my own ass or dress myself. Now I was going to run the New York Marathon. I would have shed a tear, but we got going before I could dwell on those feelings any longer. This was, after all, a race. And it was going to hurt. Having not run for so long because of my injury I was more than skeptical of my chances of running fast… I told the guides that if possible I would like to run under 5 hours, but that it wasn’t all important as just to be there was incredible. The race started with in a way that only such a massive (30 000 people) race can –slowly.

Part 7 - Something new, someONE new

I didn’t think that she thought I was serious about what I had said and wanted to really drive it home that I was serious, and fed up being the only one trying to find solutions to our problems (me, the most broken one). So, I went on Facebook and changed my relationship status to ‘single’. Sure, it was probably not the most mature thing I’ve done, but I was angry beyond any way I had ever felt before. The next morning there was big drama about the whole thing, I remember that much. Not my proudest moment, I regret doing that. I don’t generally have a problem with regret –I’m not one of those people that say: ‘I have no regrets’ –fuck, of course I do! Sure I learned from them, but I would rather have not had them at all in some cases. It is human nature to have regrets.    

I have to say that I don’t remember large parts of those few weeks and that month or so. I think it was after a month or so that I felt that things in my life were coming together and that perhaps me and her would have a better shot at it now that I was a bit more ‘together’. Since January Mom and I had been thinking of ideas to ‘get me going’ –some kind of business or something. I had lost interest in the field I was in before, and did not see myself pursuing a career in that path. We had often eaten at the M&A restaurant down the road and knew the owners (Nick and Maria) well. They were looking to sell and move abroad. From the start I was against the idea, a restaurant was not the kind of business that a stroke ‘victim’ would want to (or should) get into. Mom, however was interested and suggested we at least look at it. The more we looked at it, the more it seemed that it might be a viable option. The restaurant was mildly profitable, and did most of its trade during breakfast and lunch. The staff were competent and knew their jobs. Closing time was relatively early as restaurants went -20:00. Problem was, I knew nothing about restaurants. Nick was adamant that I could learn (obviously I guess), and that it was not that difficult (ha!). He also said that I could spend as much time as I wanted working with him in the place to learn. They didn’t want a fortune for it as they seemed as though they wanted to get out ASAP. Maria in particular had had enough of the industry. I could understand it –they had a small child (Tario) and growing up in a restaurant was not what they wanted for him.

So, I duly started spending time in the restaurant with Nick. He was quite shrewd and he knew how to make things work with many different tricks of the trade.

I had in the meantime been visiting John and his brothers and sisters at Johan’s place to try to get to know the guy, and at six weeks I brought him home to stay with me. He was the cutest little guy ever, like a small little fury black bear. I took many photos of him, one cute one of him I had him in a dinner plate on the table –he was so small! I spent a crazy amount of time with him, basically all day every day. If I wasn’t at a therapy session of some kind I was with him, either sleeping or playing. He really carried me through some very dark times, he was always waiting for me when I arrived home and was always loving and comforting to me. What a legend. I took him to puppy class twice a week on Wednesdays and Saturdays, although we only really were supposed to go once a week. I house-trained him in the first week I had him at the house, a clever pup.

Learning the restaurant trade in one month was going to be a real challenge –I wasn’t so sure I would be OK. It was quite hectic spending so many hours at the shop, but I eventually got used to it. I got to a point where I thought things in my life were ever so slowly starting to come together. I thought at length about [girlfriend] and our issues. I really honestly thought that we might have a better chance now that I felt stronger and now that I had a business to get going with. I decided that I wanted to ask [girlfriend] if she wanted to give our relationship another try. I met up with her on a couple of occasions only to find that she was quite a different person, not really interested in trying with me again. I asked her if she could give me a ‘percentage chance’ of if we might get together again, and she said there was none. I was quite distraught and didn’t want to give up that easily. I wrote her a long letter putting all my feelings and love into it. In the letter I described how amazing our love for each other was, how much fun we always have together, and how I was feeling stronger about life in general. I also said in the letter that this was my final ‘throw of the dice’ and that after this I would consider us finally finished and would not try anything again. I met up with her (after much begging and pleading –‘too busy’) and convinced her to read the letter in my presence. The letter had no effect on her. Zero. I had put my heart and soul into that letter, I wrote it from a very deep place. There was no reaction. That was it –it was over.

Back to M&A. The number of different facets in the restaurant business is truly something scary. From making food and drinks, to managing your relationship with the franchise, to customer relations, and staff issues, there was all kinds of shit going on. I spent as much time as I could in the bar and the kitchen, the places that I thought, logically, could make or break a restaurant. Learning about the different suppliers was a challenge; they all supplied different things at different prices on different days. For a person with short-term memory problems this was tough! Nick helped with this in that he put together stock sheets for various suppliers for various days. After four years in the shop, Nick tended to remember it all in his head. I needed the sheets though, for sure. The shop was mostly organized, with suppliers knowing what was what and the staff doing what they had been doing for 4 years. After around two months, on 12^th May I formally took over the shop. I still had to find a manager, but the shop was mine. I owed a shit-load of cash, but was confident I could start paying it off soon (immediately). The first few months were difficult, but I learned a lot.

During this time I had met this girl, [puppy class girl], at puppy class. I always saw her and her sister there and did some snooping to find out who they (she) was. The class instructor said that they were the ‘Burger’ family. I searched Facebook and the web to try to find this ‘[puppy class girl] Burger’ but I found nothing. One week John was really ill and we couldn’t go to puppy class. To my delight, I got a voicemail from [puppy class girl] asking about John and if he was going to be OK. She had gotten my number from Di the puppy class trainer. I thought it was pretty funny how I was trying to find a way to ‘contact’ her and then John being sick causes her to contact me! I jumped at the chance and we texted back and forth a little. We arranged to have a coffee or ‘something’ at Doppio Zero in Fourways. She suggested that we go in one vehicle as we both live in the same estate –I was happy to play taxi.

I picked her up at her place and we had a nice meet-up at Doppio. After that we met up again when she invited me for dinner and a movie at her house. Her sister and her boyfriend were there and we had a nice dinner and movie. Nothing really happened that night between us –we were both playing it cool. I think it was a couple of nights later that I was at her house and upon leaving we finally got to that first kiss. From then on we never really spoke about ‘being a couple’ or ‘going out’ there was never anything as official or as formal as that, but we both seemed to know we were an item as such. This was in stark contrast to [girlfriend], to whom labels and titles were always very important (girlfriend/boyfriend/fiancé, etc.). These things have never really been that important to me, although I do see the value in them.

Part 6: Things Fall Apart

I felt like I wanted to do more. I spoke to Haley about it and she recommended I start working with a Biokineticest. She had two people in mind, this guy [Bio] who was away in the states for a while at the moment, and a lady who was around and available. I wanted to get going as soon as possible and so wanted to start with the lady immediately. Haley advised me that she thought that [Bio] and I would get on well and that I should hold out and wait until he came back and then start working with him. Although I had my reservations, I agreed. This was very significant.

I started working with [Bio], and immediately I realized that this was the right way, with the right person. At first I continued with physio as well as bio with [Bio]. RehabMatters was about 1km from [Bio]’s practice and I often used to ‘run’ from one session to the next. The sessions with [Bio] started out smallish with me on the bench and him manipulating my leg, making me push against him in various positions and angles. From the start we focused immensely on ‘core’ work – stomach and back strengthening essentially. Only later on would I come to understand just how valuable core work is. Eventually we moved on to using weights and all manner of contraptions and ideas that [Bio] would cook up. The sessions were always massively challenging – I usually basically crawled out of there, soaked with sweat –I loved it.

I had aspirations of a big comeback. I thought that I might be able to target that old friend of mine, the Ironman UK 70.3 in July 2008. [Bio] said that we would make the call in February. In all honesty, it was a bridge (way) too far at that stage, but I like aiming high. In the midst of the training with [Bio] and the OT, I unfortunately fell into a deep depression and was really not a happy person at all, constantly thinking of ways to end it all and just be done with it. I chatted to Haley about it and also with Jodi (my psychologist) and we agreed that I should see a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist diagnosed me with severe depression and put me on an anti-depressant called Cipralex. I didn’t know much about depression, but learned quickly that it was not just something that you could ‘snap out of’ and also that the damage to my brain and consequent loss of my livelihood also caused me to be more at risk to it. Together with me not currently living much of a life, I was really in the depths and didn’t know what to do. The Cipralex seemed to do a little to better my mood, but the psychiatrist did say that we might have to try something different if there wasn’t a marked difference in my mood by January. It was really difficult to explain to people what was wrong with me, with the vast majority not understanding and simply believing that it was just a state of mind, not an actual chemical condition, as proved by science. [Girlfriend] in particular was skeptical and our relationship was deteriorating all the time. I think sometimes that [Girlfriend] thought that once I was out of rehab that life would get back on track quickly; we would get going with our lives. I think a lot of people may have thought that. I certainly do not blame anyone for having thought that.

That December I went to Mauritius with [Girlfriend] and her family. It was my first time there, and I found it a really great place. Weather was usually perfect, if a little windy. Staying with the family was great, they are amazing people. Unfortunately, they did not really understand my state of mind, continuing to believe (I think) that I was just a little ‘down’. [Girlfriend] and I didn’t get on well. One night we went for dinner together and it was really not enjoyable, with me trying to convince her of how things would come together at some point. She was skeptical, and I did not enjoy that evening. There were a few occasions where we were at dinner with groups of people and I felt extremely inadequate and ‘nothing’. I didn’t really have much to offer, just a weak, clumsy, limping, quiet nobody. I was in a bad state, and did not hide it well. I found it really hard to do things, I had very little motivation for anything really. Writing about it really messes me up a bit, I don’t enjoy remembering those times. One thing that did happen was that a friend of ours’ dog had given birth to puppies (the father was our very handsome and friendly Shuggy –a black lab). I immediately claimed one of the black pups when chatting on the phone to my mom from Mauritius. I decided that he would have a human name and named him John. We would meet when I got back. That was really exciting for me, despite my current state of mind.

Mauritius in many ways pointed out starkly to me my shortcomings. Mentally, personally, psychologically, I was wrecked. Physically I was too. I found it very difficult to do things that I would have thought nothing of before; we went out on a boat to swim with Dolphins –I was not strong enough to pull myself back onto it when we were done and had to be pulled up on to the boat dead-weight style. I tried to swim (as in proper swim) but it was shit. Everything I tried seemed shit.

Coming back from holiday I got back into the swing of things with [Bio]. While things with [Girlfriend] and I continued to deteriorate, physically I was making good progress. [Bio] told me that there might be a chance he would be able to get me an entry into the New York Marathon in November. I was skeptical. People often say things that they don’t mean or cannot really follow up on. In fairness, [Bio] didn’t really promise, but rather said there was a chance. As time went on [Girlfriend] and I continued to argue and generally not get along. She was frustrated that I could not really do anything (‘you can’t work or anything’ is what she once said). On one occasion she also said that I should ‘find a job’. I was really hurt by statements like that, I was still really just trying my best to piece myself together as best as I knew how. In hindsight though, I do not blame her at all for her actions, I understand them.

Upon consulting with the psychiatrist we decided that the Cipralex was not working well enough and that we should try something else –Venlor. It was a long process going on and off this medication; one always has to slowly wean yourself on and off the stuff (6 weeks and 6 weeks). The effects could usually only be seen after 8 weeks or so. Anyway, Venlor seemed to work better than Cipralex, and my state of mind improved.

[Girlfriend] and I decided to ‘take a break’ of a month to see if that might improve things in our relationship. All along the way I constantly tried to convince her to come with me to see Jodi for some ‘couples therapy’ to sort through our shit –she always refused, saying how could we need therapy now even before we were married? I tried in vain to change her mind. I still really loved her and wanted it to work with her to get through this. I think that [Girlfriend] was just impatient to get our lives going and could not understand the trauma that I had been through, and that this was a BIG ‘thing’. I felt more and more that she was struggling to believe in my ability to ‘do anything’ as she used to always believe. This was really devastating to me –she always had the most confidence in me of everyone. I always felt like I had to try to convince her that it would all be OK. After the one-month break, we started seeing each other again. It was not better, things were still just the same really. On the 20^th February we were at her place and she was having a look at my new cell-phone (she always loved snooping for some kind of ‘incriminating’ evidence –she was always suspicious) and noticed that I had the number and business name of a long ago ex-girlfriend (now good friend) in my phone. She immediately confronted me about it, and to be honest, I didn’t really know what to say –I didn’t think there was really an issue here. Anyway, she continued to play around with the phone until she managed to reset it or something so that I lost all the data on it, including my scheduled physio, OT, Bio, psychiatrist, and psychologist sessions for the next 6 months. It was that that finally tipped me over the edge (in combination with the ex-girlfriend thing too). I kind of lost it I think and stormed out shouting ‘its over!’. I was extremely upset and left immediately. She shouted after me ‘you’re going to regret this Peter!’. I shouted back ‘we’re both going to regret this!’. I drove home in an absolute state, seething with anger, over everything: her recently developed inability to believe in me, my inability to find solutions to these issues with the woman that I loved, my inability to be the person she wanted me to be at that point, and many other things.

I was just SO frustrated! My life until then (pre-illness) had been good –going according to plan (just as I liked it). I worked hard, I made sacrifices, I did things. What the fuck was going on? 

Part 5: A Special Person and a Special Day

While I was in the ‘spinal’ ward there was a young boy (one of many) who had been paralysed in a car accident, I think his name was Giopetso or something. He couldn’t have been older than 13 or 14. He certainly had a long, hard slog ahead of him. I also never noticed anyone visiting him, I always wondered if he had anyone.

NOTE: Name replaced.. for protection etc etc ;-)

I had amazing support from my family and loved ones during my time in Riverfield. My Mom visited basically every day, despite the dangerous road that had to be negotiated to get there. My sister Georgy put in big effort finding out what I would like for her to bring in terms of food etc etc and made it happen –very cool. My Dad (whom I don’t really see/speak to that often) also came around often even though he lived far away. [Girlfriend], my girlfriend at the time was also tremendous. Always visiting me, bringing me things and being her lovely self with positivity and encouragement. From around halfway through my London stay I started to realize that she was going to be my life partner, and that I loved her very dearly. I had planned to propose perhaps in early January of 2008, once I had a half-decent position at the ISS and was earning a bit of money. There was never any doubt in my mind that she was the one. [Girlfriend] was someone who made me feel that much more like something special, like someone of consequence. She always made me feel like I could do ANYTHING. We had the most fun together, always laughing and being silly. She was an extremely caring and loving individual, and I always felt her love for me through my period in rehab.

In early September I decided that I wanted to propose to [Girlfriend], and my Mom and I conspired to put together a plan to make it all come together. Two or so years before I had given my good friend Kevin a small amount of money to invest in the stock market (he’s a futures trader), thanks to Kev’s talent and ability that money had grown exponentially and I wanted to use some of that money to get the ring. My Mom had a large, very beautiful diamond which she wanted to pass on to me to use in an engagement ring  -this would be the diamond that I would use. My Mom basically did everything. She looked at different designs, brought me pictures, and together we discussed what would be the best. The ring turned out to be a spectacular success, very beautiful. It was white gold, with the diamond set in the middle with two tiny diamonds on either side of it. It was truly something to behold. [Girlfriend]’s birthday was coming up and we saw an ideal opportunity to put our plan into action without letting on what we were doing. I did, of course, first have to ask permission from her parents. Because of my predicament it was a bit leftfield. I texted her parents and asked if they might come to Riverfield on a certain day (they often visited me anyway –the best people). Outside the brain injury ward we sat chatting, as often before when they had brought me delicious food and other bits and bobs (they were great!). In my text I had said that I wanted to ask them something, so I think they might have had an idea of what was coming. Mom was there too, as it was important for both families to be there. I said to them that [Girlfriend] made me feel like I could do anything and that I loved her very much. I said that because she believed so much in me, it made me believe so much in myself. She was my everything and I wanted to spend the rest of my life having fun with her. The folks were happy (thankfully) to grant permission and complete support (which, considering I was basically a broken man, was quite something). I was chuffed, and hugs and kisses were exchanged all-round.

We arranged that the two families would go to Kloofsicht (in The Cradle) for [Girlfriend]’s birthday lunch, during which I would propose. We had reserved a table on the veranda overlooking the lake and mountains. I had managed to get a ‘weekend pass’ out of Riverfield. Both families were there, [Girlfriend]’s brother, his girlfriend Gillian, and Margie and Ross. On our side it was Mom, Rick, Kayleigh, Ian (a friend of Mom’s), and me of course. My Mom was so amazing through all this (unsurprisingly); she arranged that down at the lake a small gazebo be set up with a table and chairs, together with an ice-bucket with champagne and flowers. The plan was that I take [Girlfriend] on a ‘walk’ (limp) ‘just to have a look’ and then take her to the gazebo and propose. She would be completely surprised. It went off without a hitch. Everyone that was there knew that I was going to ask her, it was quite something. So, during lunch we took a walk and I lead her to the gazebo. At first she noticed that the table and stuff had been set up and thought that it was for somebody else. I managed to eventually get her sat down though. To tell the truth, I think I kind of stumbled over my words, but I told her how much I loved her and that she was very special to me. When I finally asked her I had the ring in my hand and was sitting in front of her (I was not strong enough to be confident of kneeling without falling over yet), rather than say yes, she broke down into what was a happy mixture of laughter and tears, which I took as a ‘yes’ and quickly slipped the ring onto her finger –no chances taken there.        

It was truly a joyous moment. Everyone was ecstatic and there were more tears and laughter when we returned to the table, hand in hand. There were photos taken what seemed like every second, and thus the day was recorded forever digitally. More importantly, both the families were there to witness the happy day.

At this stage I didn’t really know how we were going to ‘do this’ but I knew I wanted to do it with [Girlfriend]. I knew we had a long road ahead of us, but I was so very happy.

As the weeks wore on in rehab, I was desperate to go home. Eventually my medical aid thought that was enough, and they pulled the plug. I was happy to go home, extremely so. Unfortunately, being released from rehab did not mean that I was recovered. Sure, I could walk (limping a bit), and I could dress myself, but amazingly (agonizingly) my ankle still refused to produce that long-awaited dorsi-flexion. Although I was out of Riverfield, my rehab would continue on a daily basis. I would go for physiotherapy and OT at a place called RehabMatters in Rivonia. I could still not drive though, so I had to be taken and collected there everyday. It was quite a jacked up place, with expensive machines and plenty of Physiotherapists. RehabMatters had a different idea of rehab to Riverfield. Instead of seeing the same therapist every time, a patient would see a different one (usually every time). This was strange to me as I had become accustomed to the idea of having one therapist only and therefore having the opportunity to build a relationship with that person which would ultimately be conducive to making progress. Nevertheless, so it was. In the end I suppose it was fine. I worked with various physios, some better than others. I preferred when the sessions were harder and more demanding, and as such preferred the physios who were tougher. Carmen was one of the physios that I most enjoyed working with as she had an interest in triathlons and endurance sport, and we chatted about that often. Because of that interest, she was also aware of what I wanted to work towards physically, and what might be the best way forward.

We often made use of the treadmill that was there. It was a seriously high-tech, expensive piece of equipment. It could measure gait and stride length differences and foot placement, among a slew of other things. Although dosi-flexion was still not there, I was able to put together what looked like a running motion. It looked like you might imagine someone running with a knee or leg injury, very ‘bumpy’ and not really a smooth running motion at all. But I was running, it was sweet! Some of the physios surmised that I must have at least a tiny amount of dorsi-flexion in order to be able to run without dragging my left foot badly. That might have been the case, but for some reason I could not produce that motion in isolation.

I also continued seeing OTs at RehabMatters. I started working with Haley Norval, a delightful lady who always seems to be smiling and happy. Normally I don’t like those types, but Haley won me over with her sincerity, softness, and kindness. My short-term memory had been cooked a bit by the strokes and it was up to Haley to try to resurrect it (my brain had to be rewired –once brain cells die they do not grow back/regenerate). We did all kinds of puzzles and memory games in order to stimulate my mind and get it going again. Working with Haley was always a fun thing, and I generally looked forward to seeing her.

I continued to get stronger and stronger, albeit in small, baby steps. The physio sessions were getting easier and easier, the sessions with Haley continued to be entertaining and valuable. In physio we often focused on trying to get THAT ankle going, it just wasn’t playing the game. What also was very tricky was trying to co-ordinate my two legs into doing odd movements like skipping or jumping – this was very frustrating (to this day those kinds of movements are difficult for me –I am, now, very clumsy). One day I made an astounding jump in progress in the most unexpected place: in front of the TV. I was watching TV, probably waiting to go to therapy or something and as I always did when just sitting around, I was trying to get some dorsi-flexion going in THAT ankle. To my utter amazement, the foot spontaneously moved strongly in the way that I was dreaming of! It wasn’t massively controlled, but there was the unmistakable (strong!) dorsi-flexion that had eluded me for so long. Amazing, just like that.